Three Sides of the Tracks

by Mike Addington

  Three Sides of the Tracks

  By Mike Addington

  Dedicated to Mickey Dunn

  A loyal, lifelong Friend

  Copyright Ó 2014 by Mike Addington

  Although inspired by real events, the contents herein are a work of fiction and do not represent or depict any person, living or deceased, or actual event; and any similarity to any person, place, or event is purely coincidental.

  Three Sides of the Tracks

  Chapter 1

  The Friendship Is Born

  Caroline’s tiny legs trembled, and her hand shook as she pushed open the school door, a door that opened onto a new world. She glanced back nervously, but her mother had pulled away to allow another car at the “drop off” point. After one more deep breath, she found her way to the principal’s office despite keeping her eyes glued to the floor most of the way.

  A stern woman wearing brown-frame glasses with silver protrusions on the upper corners that looked like wings to Caroline leaned over the counter and glared at her. The brilliant red lipstick moved, but Caroline didn’t hear. The lipstick was so thick it had rubbed off on the woman’s teeth, which reminded Caroline of the clown at the circus last fall . . . or maybe—

  A ruler smacked the counter. “What is your name, young lady? Are you deaf?” the clown said.

  “Caroline. Caroline Whitaker, ma’am.”

  “Speak up. I can’t bear to hear a child whisper. I swear, if y’all aren’t yelling like banshees, you’re shy as turtles. “Now,” the woman said, an air of finality in her tone, “what is your name?”

  Caroline took a deep breath. “Caroline Whitaker. I’m in the third grade.”

  “Well, you say you are, but that doesn’t mean you are to me. I’ll have to look it up. If you and your mother have registered properly. Where are you transferring from?”

  “Russell Elementary School.”

  The woman lifted her chin and looked down at Caroline. “Russell,” she said, the word spoken to match the look of disdain on her face. “Are you sure you’re supposed to be here? This is Lee Elementary, you know. Entirely different than Russell. Yes, entirely different.”

  Caroline nodded.

  Fingers swept across the keyboard. “Caroline Whitaker.” The woman scrutinized the computer screen for a long while, giving Caroline the impression she was trying to find something wrong.

  The red lips smacked twice, and the woman exhaled almost as a sigh. “Well, everything, surprisingly, appears to be in order. Do you think you possibly can find your way down one hall to the fourth classroom on the left?”

  Caroline nodded.

  “No manners, I see. A mark of character, you know. Good character.” The ogre’s red lips smacked again. “ ‘Yes, ma’am’ would have been preferable.”

  The woman thrust a slip of paper at Caroline. “Your teacher’s name is Ms. Olson. Give this to her and follow instructions.

  Caroline tried to keep her hand from trembling as she reached for the slip. “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Yes, ma’am, what?”

  “Yes, ma’am, I can find the classroom,” Caroline whispered, then, just as the red lips opened, she added, “Thank you.”

  The woman jerked on the bottom of her blouse and raised her chin. “That’s better. Now, speak up, child. Mercy. Run along. Run along. You’re late as it is. You can’t be disturbing Ms. Olson’s class.”

  Caroline picked up her backpack. She and her mother shopped everywhere trying to find one like it. One with the Wall-e design.

  The door to Ms. Olson’s classroom was open, so Caroline stopped at the doorway and tapped timidly on the frame.

  Ms. Olson stopped in midsentence. She looked at Caroline and smiled. “Come on in, young lady. I’ll bet your name is Caroline Whitaker, isn’t it? I’ve been expecting you. Well, come on,” she said again since Caroline seemed rooted to the spot.

  Caroline felt all eyes on her. She snapped out of the frightened trance and lurched forward, her legs trembling again.

  She held out the slip of paper. Ms. Olsen took it and laid it on her desk.

  “Honey, just find you a seat, but, first, do you want to tell us a little bit about yourself since this is your first day at a new school?”

  Caroline froze. Without looking up, she knew everyone was staring at her. She tried her best to keep from crying, but felt a tear on the corner of her eye. She prayed it wouldn’t run down her face.

  “I’m Caroline, . . . and . . . and . . . this is my first day.”

  The class giggled.

  Ms. Olson waited a few seconds. “Well, Caroline, just go ahead and sit down. It’s hard to come to a new school all by yourself. Now, class, I want everyone to make Caroline feel at home. Caroline will tell us more about herself when she feels like it. Won’t you, Caroline?”

  Caroline could have hugged Ms. Olsen, but the best she could do at the moment was nod. She saw a seat on the second row about halfway down and walked to it and opened her precious backpack, taking out her set of pencils and colored pens and a writing pad.

  She heard snickers and giggles.

  Ms. Olsen continued her outline of the class schedule then a bell rang. Students leaped from their desks and started running for the door.

  “Slow down. No running, now,” Ms. Olson said, clapping her hands together.

  Caroline let the others run past her then stood up timidly and headed for the door. She followed the horde to the playground.

  Groups of girls clustered together, some playing tag, others on the merry-go-round.

  A swing was unoccupied, so Caroline sat and swung slowly, the heavy feeling overwhelming all else.

  Five girls walked toward her.

  “Where did you get that skirt? I saw one just like it when the man who cuts my daddy’s grass came by with his daughter. It looked just like yours,” the girl said and the rest laughed and hugged each other as if the girl who spoke had said the funniest thing imaginable.

  Caroline’s head drooped, and the swing slowed.

  “And those cute little shoes. I simply must have my mother buy me a pair just like those.”

  The group burst into laughter again.

  Caroline felt the tears welling up as she fought to hold them back.

  The girl in the swing next to Caroline jumped off and left before the gang of girls made fun of her too. She knew that the group were all from the wealthiest families in Benton, a point they made sure everybody knew and one that certainly made them special. If you weren’t part of their group, you were fair game.

  A boy jumped on the swing and began swinging.

  “Why did you come to our school anyway?” one of the other girls said. “You don’t belong here. We never even heard of you before, so you must not be anybody. And the way you look and dress, we don’t want you here. Why don’t you go to another school? You can’t pass here anyway. You look stupid. Are you going to cry, little baby?”

  Caroline held onto the swing’s ropes with one hand and wiped tears away with the other. She tucked her chin deep into her chest to hide her face.

  “Lois, come here a minute,” Caroline heard the boy on the next swing say as he hopped off and walked a few feet away.

  “What do you want, Danny? I don’t have time for the likes of you either.”

  “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll come over here.” The boy’s voice held such menace that Lois gave in.

  “Oh, okay, but only to keep you from bothering us any more. What do you want?” Lois said with a feigned air of indifference and annoyance.

  When Lois was close enough, Danny said, “I know about you and Tommy Lewis showing your underwear down in the auditorium closet last week. If you don’t be nice to the ne
w girl, I’m gonna tell everybody. Everybody.”

  Lois’ face turned red. “I did not do any such thing, Danny Taylor. You’re making that up.” Lois said it in a low voice though, so Danny knew his friend hadn’t lied.

  “Okay, then you won’t mind if I tell everybody, will you?”

  “You’d better not, Danny Taylor. I’ll never ever speak to you again if you do.” Lois stomped her foot and pointed a finger at Danny.

  Danny laughed loudly. “You stupid girl. You and your friends. Nobody cares whether you talk to them. You just think they do. Okay, then, I’ll see you later. I’ll go over and mention it to Tommy. I bet he’ll tell me all about it. Guys like to show off, you know. Before school’s out today, everyone will know. See ya’ later.”

  “Wait. Wait,” Lois said and grabbed Danny’s arm.

  “Not a word of that is true, but some of these low class kids might believe it and hurt my reputation. If you promise me you’ll never say a word about it ever again, I won’t bother the girl—whatever her name is—again.”

  “Uh uh, that’s not good enough. You’re going to go over and tell her you’re sorry and then be friendly and introduce her to some other kids. I’m sure she won’t want to hang around with you and your little group very long once she meets some other kids. You just be nice to her for a couple of days and don’t make fun of her anymore. That’s the deal.”

  “Danny Taylor, you are a . . .”

  Danny wagged his finger and started walking off again.

  “Oh, okay,” Lois said, stomped her foot one last time and walked to her group. A few minutes later, they approached Caroline and told her they were sorry. Soon, they were all on the swings.

  Lois looked at Danny and gave him a murderous look.

  Danny smiled and walked off.

  Although Caroline’s head was down the entire time this was happening, she heard parts of it and knew something transpired to cause the girls to all of a sudden become friendly. She knew they weren’t really her friends, but she was so relieved when they stopped picking on her that she gratefully accepted their abrupt change of behavior. The other kids saw Lois and her friends with Caroline; some said hello during lunch and the next recess.

  Caroline stood outside waiting for her mother to pick her up when she felt a presence beside her. She turned to see the boy who had coerced Lois.

  “I’m Danny,” he said with a smile.

  Caroline couldn’t help herself. She stared at the boy’s upper lip, a part of which was twisted and scarred. Without realizing what she was doing, she reached out and touched it.

  “You satisfied?” Danny said angrily.

  Caroline snapped from her trance and shamefully lowered her eyes. “I’m sorry. Are you mad at me?”

  “It’s okay,” Danny said, regretful of his outburst. He knew how it felt to be an outsider.

  “It was like that when I was born. Mean people call me a hair lip, but I don’t know why. Momma says they’re just stupid people. You can touch it again if you want.”

  “Oh, that’s okay. I didn’t mean to make you mad.”

  “I know. It’s just, well, nobody’s wanted to touch it before. Kids seem afraid of it, like I’m a freak or something.”

  Caroline took Danny’s hand. “Don’t say that. You’re not a freak. You’re the nicest boy I know. I don’t know why I touched your lip. My hand just reached out before I knew it.”

  Danny squeezed her hand. “It’s okay, really. I know you didn’t mean nothin’ by it. Friends?”

  The first real smile of the day came to Caroline’s face: the smile that charmed all who met her. “Friends. Friends for sure. Especially since you made those mean girls stop picking on me. What did you say to the really mean one, Lois?”

  Danny grinned. “That I’d tell everybody her and Tommy Lewis were being naughty in the auditorium if she didn’t leave you alone. She tries to bully everybody else because her daddy’s rich, and she acts so snooty. Nobody likes her, but she has a way of making people feel bad, so she gets her way.”

  “Except for you,” Caroline said.

  “Me and a few others. We don’t care about her rich daddy.”

  “Is your daddy rich?”

  “No, but my mother used to be. My grandparents are, or that’s what people say. They got mad at my mom for some reason, and they don’t speak to her anymore.” Danny’s head drooped as he said the last part.

  “That’s not nice,” Caroline said.

  “Nah, but I don’t worry about it.”

  “Oh, there’s my mom,” Caroline exclaimed. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Friends, right?”

  “You bet, Caroline.”

  2

  Jessie

  Jessie roared into the gravel parking lot and slammed on the brakes. The Lincoln skidded to a stop. Deadhead and Iggy burst through the cloud of dust obscuring the front of Sure Fire Bonding Company.

  “Didn’t expect you, boss,” Deadhead said.

  “You seldom expect anything, knucklehead,” Jessie replied, a nastier than usual scowl on his face. “Get inside. I want to see the books. Show me the paperwork on that pervert.”

  “The principal?” Iggy asked.

  “You got another one? You’d better not. One million dollar loss is enough.”

  Jessie studied the paperwork. A million dollar bond on Lewis Caulters, a high school principal accused of molesting several of his students. Boys no less. Girls, he could understand. Not condone, but understand. But boys? Jessie shook his head in disgust.

  “When’s the last time you saw him?”

  “Two weeks ago at a preliminary hearing. Judge put it off for a couple of weeks ‘cause of a motion. Then Caulter didn’t show up at the next one, which was two days ago.”

  “Sure Fire Bonding ain’t gonna get stuck for a million dollars, I’ll tell you that. You let that S.O.B. get away, and I’ll make your asses eat it.” He fixed each one with a scowl, his small eyes squinting to mere slits.

  “I’m sorry, boss, but we been stakin’ out the house. Goin’ by his clubs. Country club. That snooty golf club he plays at. His sister’s.”

  “What about his high and mighty wife? You been trailing her?”

  “Sure, sure, Jessie, we been doing all we could. Re . . . Remember, I did call you about it before I went on the bond,” Iggy said, holding his hands up in a placating manner and shrugging as if he were at a loss as to what else to do, hope and fear intermingled.

  Jessie’s face darkened even under his normally dark complexion and tan, which he worked hard to maintain at a certain level. Vanity was not the least of his flaws.

  The fear in the eyes of chain gang-toughened Iggy stroked Jessie’s ego, and he lowered his tone. Iggy did make him a lot of money, and he was street smart, despite his rough exterior and the nickname Jessie hung on him: Iggy, short for Ignorant. Jessie did it just to put him down. “I expect you to know what you’re doing before you call me—”

  “I thought I did. It was just . . . just such a big bail. I mean, you know, I couldn’t go on a bail that high without calling you. You’d have kicked my ass out the door.”

  “Oh, it’ll be worse than that if you don’t find this perve. Okay, enough about him. We need to see about another one. Do a little collecting.” Jessie chuckled. “Bring your ’quipment with you too. That guy in Tucker is too far behind on his payments. Over three months now. We need to shake him up a little. There’s several in that neighborhood who owe us. Reminding folks keeps ’em in line.”

  Iggy nodded and opened a closet door. He grabbed a sawed-off pool stick, a hole bored in the big end and stuffed with lead, both ends heavily wrapped with electrical tape. He tossed Deadhead a 2-foot-long, braided leather strap, similar to a riding crop but more limber.

  “You want us to bring our caps?” Iggy asked, referring to cold weather caps with side flaps they used to hide their faces, which they sometimes wore when performing an eviction: “prompting,” as Jessie called it.

  “No, I want them
to know who it is. We can’t have Sure Fire Loans getting a bad name. In fact, I’m coming with you. Y’all go by the yard first and get the tow truck. Meet me at that convenience store by the entrance.”

  Jessie swung the Lincoln out of the parking lot in south Atlanta, drove through downtown—quiet on Saturday—to Decatur Street then turned north for Tucker, a suburb of Atlanta.

  The Lincoln turned into a convenience store adjacent to the housing development, which was no more than five years old, with houses in the 300 thousand range.

  Ten minutes later, the tow truck appeared.

  Jessie rolled down his window. “Turn on all the flashing lights when you get in the development. I want the nosy bastards looking out their windows.”

  Deadhead nodded.

  Jessie drove into the subdivision of well-kept homes with the tow truck right behind him, its yellow and red strobe lights flashing and the truck’s horn—taken from a big-rig 18-wheeler—bellowing loud enough to rattle windows.

  Doors sprang open, and people rushed outside to see what the ruckus was about.

  Preston Gowens’, the delinquent client, house was several blocks into the subdivision, and, by the time Jessie’s entourage arrived, Preston was outside, gaping at the circus-like caravan. He saw the lettering on the truck and knew at once the show was aimed at him. His face reddened with embarrassment followed by rage as he strode toward the street.

  Jessie’s Lincoln bounced over the curb, and he applied the brakes just enough to stop after he hit the mailbox and knocked it over.

  Preston yanked on the Lincoln’s door handle, but it was locked.

  Jessie smirked and exhaled a plume of cigar smoke in Preston’s direction.

  An enraged Preston slammed his fist against Jessie’s window but the glass held and Preston stepped back to kick it out.

  Iggy and Deadhead raced from the truck and jumped him from behind. Iggy grabbed his arms as Deadhead kicked his legs from under him.

  Preston clawed the big six-foot-one, 250-pound Deadhead down with him and pounded on his face. Blood spurted from Deadhead’s nose and split lip.